As we drove up to the Maltz Jupiter Theatre Friday night
there was a storm north, probably over Jensen Beach, and the night sky was
crackling with constant cloud to cloud lightning in the distance. We seemed to be headed into its vortex which,
in a way, I would describe the essence of Jon Robin Baitz' play, Other Desert Cities.
It was a pleasant surprise to see such a stimulating play
at the Maltz Theatre, not that they haven't had such plays in the past, but we
wish they would do more, this one in particular having the "look and
feel" of the serious Palm Beach Dramaworks productions, including two
actors who frequent the latter stage, the always dependable Cliff Burgess and
the fabulous Angie Radosh. Add the other
very competent actors, the set and staging, and the result is an evening of
fine theatre
I'd almost call the play "Arthur Miller Lite"
as it has many of the tragic elements of some of his plays -- families in weighty
conflict -- but with comic elements as well, a tragicomedy of sorts. It is a Christmas get-together, which is
supposed to be a wonderful time of the year, right? Yeah, "right" -- a perfect time for
discord, especially when you put a dysfunctional family under the microscope.
Here we watch the Wyeth family in their home in the
desert city of Palm Springs "welcoming" back one of their own who has
strayed from the flock, Brooke, the daughter of Lyman Wyeth and his wife Polly. She has been away for six years. During that
time she wrote and published a novel, but then was in and out of mental
hospitals. Since her "recovery" and in the aftermath of a dissolving
marriage, she has written a memoir that is about to be published, one that
paints her parents in a very unforgivable and unfavorable light. They who live
in a power-broker world, a well connected family, former friends of Nancy and
Ronald Reagan, extremely wealthy and very conservative, set in their ways, and
never expecting their only daughter to publicly expose family wounds.
Brooke's arrival and her project are the catalysts to begin
the pot stirring on stage, and joining her parents (who were involved in
television, she as a writer and he as an actor) are her brother Trip who
produces reality television shows and Brooke's Aunt Silda, Polly's alcoholic
sister, who is staying with the Wyeths now that she is out of rehab. Silda used
to collaborate with Polly writing for TV as well.
So we have a bunch of writers getting together. What could be more fun with the potential for
sharp, cutting dialogue than that? And in spite of Brooke's hope that the
family will approve of her memoir -- her real purpose for visiting -- what hope
is there for that as she blames them for one of the family secrets, her brother
Henry's suicide? Henry had spent his
teenage years rebelling against the family values, joining an anti-Vietnam war
underground movement which culminated in the bombing (and a death) at an army
recruiting center. Presumably, he jumped off a Seattle ferry, leaving suicide
notes and for that Brooke intensely blames her parents. But there is much that
Brooke does not know. This family, in fact, is shrouded in secrets.
As the play wears on, these other secrets are peeled away
leaving the exposed, corrupted core of the family. Add to that the divergent political views,
opposite polarities of the daughter and mother, and the action taking place
during the time of the Iraq War -- the microcosm of the family war in "one
desert city" against the macrocosm of carnage in "another desert city"
-- and you have a play with lots of moving parts and things to think about.
It's also a play about writing. How much can a writer can
step over the line of fiction into non-fiction, writing about characters who
are close family? It reminds me a little of when Thomas Wolfe published Look Homeward Angel, a thinly disguisednovel of his family and town folk in Asheville, NC, which enraged the town folk and left him an outsider. It is one of my own constraints when writing, especially
when I attempt any fiction as I always seem to circle back to childhood
memories that are not too dissimilar from those Jon Robin Baitz writes
about. At a certain point should I abandon
self-censorship? Believe me, these were
thoughts that went through my mind watching this play. And I think Baitz is as concerned about the
issue of writing truths from one's experience fully conscious of the pain that
might elicit.
So I take this play very personally and therefore why
shouldn't I think it exceptional, especially as you often hear the question: where
are the great new playwrights? My one
regret is not having read this play first, as I think it is one of those plays
which may be as good (or better?) in the reading. Ann (my wife) on the other
hand, was not as impressed, especially after the first act with which she had
difficulty connecting emotionally, and Ann has a very accurate emotional barometer. I sort of felt the same way at intermission,
although on an intellectual level I profoundly connected -- so many elements of
my childhood were stirred up. I'm not
sure this disconnected emotional feel was the play itself, the acting, or the
direction.
But before making some comments on those elements, I must
say a few words about the set, the first one designed at the Maltz by Anne
Mundell, a highly accomplished set designer and teacher of Scenic Design at
Carnegie Mellon University's School of Drama.
If verisimilitude is the objective of a set, this one is over the
top. It IS a desert home and one feels
as if real people live there. It is also
somewhat monochromatic, like the desert, with people living out their secrets there.
Outstanding. And Cory Pattak took full advantage of lighting the extraordinary
stage and capturing changing emotional moments.
The mother (Polly played by Susan Cella) and her daughter
(Brooke played by Andrea Conte) perhaps have the most difficult roles in the
play. Polly comes from Jewish roots, now
transformed into a waspy, right wing wife of a former Ambassador, after a stint
in Hollywood, a woman who now revels in her wealth and connections. Painfully she is also now saddled by an
emotionally distraught daughter with whom she is so congenitally at odds. She
has to deliver some of the more caustic lines in the play such as: "You can die from too much
sensitivity. So much pressure to be
fair. I hate being fair." Or when asked whether she is acting or not
she replies "Acting is real -- the two are hardly mutually exclusive in
this family." She plays Polly professionally but uninspiredly. Perhaps it is the role itself, a complex one
of the controlling mother when juxtaposed to the other complicated roles on
stage.
Andrea Conte's Brooke begins her role as an anxious, depressed,
physically agitated young woman and then
elevates it to an angry depressed person, with a certain shrillness about her
portrait that was at times jarring, frightening. I don't know how she could have played the
role any differently -- it was her yoke as written by Baitz -- and she was certainly credible,
transforming herself into a "different Brooke" in the play's coda, an
act of resignation and acceptance.
Angie Radosh who plays Polly's sister, Silda, inhabited a
similar role as Claire in Edward Albee's A Delicate Balance. (In fact, I would be remiss in not noting the subtle tip
of the hat by the playwright to Albee's play. When the father wants to send
Brooke a check, support her in some way, Brooke protests having seen friends
ruined by monetary interference from parents saying, "The balance is so
delicate."). The two plays are eerily similar as are Radosh's role in each
(although in Albee's play she is a drunk and here she is a rehabilitated drunk)
but she is a consummate pro, having antipathy for Polly's values, leading her to
prod her niece to take on the family in her memoir (secretly providing
information for her). Silda, though, has
a part in the family secrets as well, and when it is revealed, the look on
Radosh's face is one of horror. Another outstanding performance by Angie
Radosh.
Cliff Burgess is really coming into his own as one of the
more versatile actors in South Florida. We've seen him play many roles, with his
portrayal of Brooke's brother, Trip, and his unique relationship in the family
dynamics (he was only five when his brother's suicide occurred, so of all the
characters in the play he is the most "blameless") he comes across as
the voice of reason in the play, a truth speaker, to his parents and to his
sister. Not surprisingly, as he was a
"privileged kid" his interests seem superficial, producing a TV show
where real life people are "put on trial" and the jurors are
celebrities. The perfect cynicism, carried
off by Burgess depicting the way we live today along with his constant texting,
even while speaking -- the modern day multitasker. But he's had his own secrets as well,
revealed later in the play to his sister.
A bravura performance by Burgess.
Richard Kline's performance as the patriarch of the
family, Lyman, is spot on. He is a man
of financial substance and conservative social connections, but truly
supportive of his children (in surprising ways as well but no spoilers here),
who bears the burden of the multiple layers of secrets, with a pleasantry in
sync with his former profession of actor.
He is the peacemaker in the family (as was my own father), always trying
to use his skills as a former Ambassador (having been appointed to the position
by his old buddy, Ronald Reagan), to reconcile differences between his daughter
and his wife, and to get his daughter to accept the ways of the privileged,
even offering to buy the home next door so she can leave Long Island for Palm
Springs (failing to see the depth of Brooke's rebellion). Kline, who once had a regular role in the sitcom
Three's Company, rises to the
occasion in this serious drama.
I think this play is a director's nightmare. The play is long -- 2 hours plus an
intermission -- and there is a lot of dialogue and raw emotion, and although
only five characters, it is a crowded stage, so, unavoidably, there are times
when actor's backs are to some part of the audience (especially ours as we were
seated far stage left). The first act
all seems to be about establishing the characters, not the explosive emotion of
the second act, a fault of the play or the director? It's hard to tell. Still, Peter Flynn, who
directed the Maltz's award-winning Man of
La Mancha, keeps focused on the playwright's intention, so accurately
summed up by a line from the play that Flynn quotes in his playbill
commentary: Everything in life is about being seen, or not seen, and
eventually, everything IS seen.
Indeed, the Maltz has done a very credible job with a
very good play. Although upon exiting I heard
someone say, "I wish they just did all musicals," for me, keep a fine
play or two in the mix each season!
